


Saying "Fuck You" With Lipstick

by PrivateBi



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Descriptions of Injury, Gen, Juno makes an attempt at self care, Makeup, Mentions of an OC, bc I wrote this after Lesson Learned and then never posted it, set during the O'Flaherty arc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-24 08:02:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14950766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrivateBi/pseuds/PrivateBi
Summary: Juno is very, very good at covering up bruises with makeup.





	Saying "Fuck You" With Lipstick

Juno woke up feeling like he had been slammed with great force into a concrete wall. This was, of course, because the night before he had been slammed with great force into a concrete wall, by a felon called Kyra Jivani. Under different circumstances, Juno might have been happy to let a woman like Jivani press his face against any wall she chose. But if there was one constant in the entire goddamn universe, it was Juno Steel finding himself in the absolute worst circumstances possible.  


“If Jivani had just a little more style,” O’Flaherty had informed him that morning, “she’d have landed herself in the Fortezza by now.” After seeing her case file, Juno had to agree. The woman had at least a dozen charges of murder. What made her work different from Hyperion’s run-of the-mill homicide was she never used weapons. Kyra Jivani killed each and every one of her victims with her bare hands, beating them to death.  


Juno sent Rita the file, and within an hour, they had found her location. Then, Juno proceeded to do what he did best: got himself into a fight. Jivani spotted him as he aimed his blaster at her from around a corner, of course she did. A job where Juno didn’t get himself ground into the pavement was a job left incomplete. Juno would’ve credited his years of boxing experience for saving his life, but he knew that it was his blaster that had truly won the fight. All the punches he’d thrown only dragged out the fight, preventing Jivani from landing any fatal blows, but not from throwing him around the alley like a ragdoll. It was the lightest of touches to a trigger that truly decided the victor. Even so, Juno sure as hell didn’t feel like he’d won. The stun setting on a blaster only stings for a second. Doesn’t even leave a mark. Blows like the ones Jivani had landed on him… those are the kind of injuries that refuse to be ignored.  


Juno felt shame squeeze his chest as he sat at the vanity mirror to survey the damage. Every livid purple bruise was a victory Jivani had over him. The biggest one covered his entire left shoulder, which had taken the brunt of the impact of the wall. On his right cheek was evidence of the kick that had thrown him there; Juno could swear the imprints of Jivani’s shoelaces were visible. Apart from those, there were a myriad of scrapes and smaller bruises that alone might have been insignificant, but together formed an impressive mural of pain and failure across Juno’s face and body. He was reminded of how he had looked as a kid - and promptly shut down that thought by downing a half-full glass of low-quality booze that had been sitting out since the day before. It stung the inside of his mouth, where his cheek had been driven between his teeth by the force of a boot against his face. Involuntary tears clouded his vision for a moment, but he blinked them away.  


“You know what,” he said aloud to the busted-up dame in the mirror. “Fuck this.” Juno pulled his makeup box out from under the vanity table, and dumped it out with a definitive shake. Cracking his knuckles, he decided this: nobody would ever see any of the marks Jivani had left on him. He would not let her have that victory.  


As Juno blended first concealer, then foundation into his skin, he told himself that he did not feel the ache of the open capillaries underneath. Every stroke of the brush was an act of defiance, taking power back from not only Jivani but from every person who had ever hurt him. People had knocked Juno around all his life - and maybe he deserved some of it - but he’d be damned if he let them see the damage they’d done. Not today.  


The heavy foundation left the face in the mirror blank and dull, so Juno painted color back into it with a deep red rouge. With a delicately shimmering powder, he brought attention to his cheekbones and the inner corners of his eyes, which he then defined with sharp wings.  


The Juno in the mirror was almost unrecognizable as the same dame as before, save for the telling raised scar on the bridge of his nose. His skin was smooth, the shape of his face defined. His mismatched eyes, usually rimmed with dark, puffy bags, were alert and striking. He looked… okay he looked pretty damn good. All it took was a little bit of makeup, and he had gone from a banged-up mess to someone who wanted to be seen. Realizing this, Juno searched through the pile of bottles and tubes on the vanity until he found a lipstick he had never opened, one with a dark blue dot on the lid. Juno had bought this on impulse at least a year prior, but never felt good enough to actually put such an attention-grabbing color on. He might not have actually felt any better now than he had then, but he sure as hell looked like he did. Sometimes, he thought, that’s enough.  


Juno fancied he almost looked like one of the beautiful ladies covering the walls of cosmetics stores, lips parted slightly as he painted them with the thick blue liquid. Once he set the lipstick, dusting over it with colorless powder, he sat back to look at himself.  


It hurt to smile, but he wasn’t about to let that show. The lady in the mirror grinned wide, as if he’d never been hurt a day in his life, as if he had everything in the world to live for. It was a compelling lie that Juno was telling himself as he studied his reflection, and it was almost enough to convince him that he actually felt the confidence and security that radiated out from his painted-on face.  


If it was almost convincing to him, it would be more than good enough to dupe anyone else.  


When he left his apartment half an hour and a pair of heels later, it was with his head held high. He ached all over, and every movement served to sharpen that pain, but that didn’t stop him from letting his hips sway as he walked. Because every person whose gaze lingered on him, every time he passed a window and felt good about his reflection, was a failure for Jivani, and for everyone and everything else that had ever treated him like he was worthless.  


Juno still felt like he had been slammed with great force into a concrete wall, but damn if he didn’t make it look good.

**Author's Note:**

> This is such an old piece of work, and it's not even the first version of this fic I wrote. I've had a lot of feelings about Juno and makeup since before Train from Nowhere came out. If you wanna talk to me about that, or anything else, my main blog is ginnie-darling on tumblr.


End file.
